I’ve made a massive mistake. As I sit here, in the sweltering heat in the driveway of my daughter’s Maths tutor, I am trying to think if I have anything I can throw together for dinner tonight. I know I haven’t defrosted anything (forgot) and I can’t remember what we have or don’t have because my brain is scrambled.
This is due in part to not having had any breakfast (I know, I know, it’s the most important meal of the day) or lunch. But before you all lecture me I was working solidly until 2pm and then I had to dash my daughter across town to the orthodontist and then back the other way to here so really there hasn’t been ANY TIME IN THE DAY AT ALL. Besides, I did eat 3 chocolate digestive biscuits with a mug of tea which isn’t great but at least it’s something.
Stop judging me!
So that’s my mistake. It was a huge oversight to marry someone who dislikes cooking as much as I do. I have joked that my “next husband” will be a whizz in the kitchen because God knows the one I currently have isn’t. He works long hours so it seems mean to expect him to cook in the evenings. He comes home ravenous after a long day and a sweaty, grimy commute home courtesy of South Eastern Trains and I just couldn’t ever say “So, what’s for dinner then?”. Besides the answer would almost always be “Take away?”.
If I asked him to get in the car to drive to the supermarket to buy dinner, he’d most likely shoot himself. Even if it does have its own Sushi Bar.
Not that he’d eat sushi. You see that’s the other problem. His diet isn’t particularly varied. He’s very meat and two veg. Actually make that meat and no veg because he is incredibly fussy when it comes to vegetables. And fruit. And fish. And spice. You get the picture.
It’s already taken me years to wean him off all the crap he liked before we got together. Things like Findis Crispy Pancakes. I’m not even joking.
So this job always falls to me. Throw the coeliac daughter into the mix and shopping for food has just ceased to be enjoyable. It’s all such a chore. It revolves around searching the ingredients with a microscope (her) and keeping to an approved list of foodstuffs (him) so that by the time it gets to what I’d like to eat I have all but given up.
I should by all accounts be rake thin but I just eat all the wrong things instead. I just snack, snack, snack all day long on biscuits or chocolate and then eat the easiest possible meal in the evening that ticks the boxes.
But here’s where he’s really sneaky. He’s always wildly grateful. If I served him some charred oven chips with a dry rubbery chicken breast without condiments he’d still say “Looks lovely darling, thank you!” and tuck in without complaint.
Actually he’s always nice about anything I make him.
Maybe I didn’t make a mistake after all.
I think we may have some oven chips in the freezer…